


Prince Snow White

by laurasimonsdaughter



Category: Schneewittchen | Snow White (Fairy Tale), Snow White - All Media Types
Genre: (not Snow White and the foreign Prince they're just capital R Romantic), Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Blood, Content warnings for 'fairy tale violence' but particularly:, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gay Male Character, M/M, Murder, Poison, Revisionist Fairy Tale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurasimonsdaughter/pseuds/laurasimonsdaughter
Summary: “Mirror, mirror, on the wallWho is the fairest of them all?”“You, my King, are fair, it’s true,But Prince Snow White,Who stalks the roads at night,Is a thousand times fairer than you.”Or: what if Snow White was a prince, the Evil Queen was an absolute jerk of a king and the seven dwarves were seven robbers, so the runaway prince gets to be a highwayman?
Relationships: (except this time more gay), Königssohn | Prince/Schneewittchen | Snow White, Prince Charming/Snow White, Prince/Snow White, Queen/Snow White's Father
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	Prince Snow White

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes we are in need of a double dose of drama~
> 
> Concept by my friend Adrian, based on the Grimms’ “Little Snow White”.

In a grand castle beyond seven great hills and seven stretched-out woods there once lived a king who was as rich as he was beautiful and thrice as vain as that. In all the wide world there was not a single young man, rich or poor, who was as handsome as he was, everyone who had breath left over to speak after looking at him agreed about that.

The king prized his beauty higher than any other virtue and accomplishment and when it was proclaimed that the young monarch would officially start his search for a queen, everyone knew that above all, she must be beautiful. The royal delegates searched far and wide, because not one of the women they brought back was considered good enough, but finally they found a young noblewoman who was truly as beautiful as the first light of day.

“You,” the lucky courtier who found her said, “are beautiful enough to appease even the king. He will make you his bride as soon as he looks upon you.”

The noblewoman blushed like a June rose and she readily let herself be brought to the king. She barely dared to look at him, so beautiful and formidable was he, but the king did look at her, and he said:

“Here at last is a woman that will not pale in comparison like faded linen to silk when seated beside me. Her I will take for my wife.”

On her wedding day there was not a creature in the whole world as happy and grateful as the bride, but all too soon her happiness faded. That her husband did not love her, she had been quite prepared for. In marriages such as theirs, after all, one must grow to love one another with time. But she found to her sorrow that he did not care about her at all. No more than he cared about the diamond pin in his cravat or the velvet cape around his shoulders. He cared for her only as a bauble, as a thing of beauty to better offset his own. She was nothing but a pretty creature on his arm.

All this the young queen felt in her heart, but soon she knew it for a fact. Because one evening when she went up to join her husband in his chambers a little earlier than usual, she found him standing in front of a large, glittering mirror, and speaking to it as if it was a person.

With a great fear and confusion growing inside of her the queen heard her husband say to the mirror:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
Who is the fairest of them all?”_

And the mirror, whose shining glass seemed to reflect everything but the king himself replied, in a voice that was barely there and yet heard from deep within the fibre of one’s being:

_“My king, know what I speak is true,  
The fairest of them all is you.”_

The king swelled with satisfaction at this answer, but he was not done. He once more looked into the empty mirror and demanded:

_“But mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
Who then is the fairest queen of all?”_

And once again the mirror answered with its inhuman voice:

_“My king, the fairest queen in sight,  
Is the one that you keep by your side.”_

Now the king smiled and he drew the curtains that usually draped in front of the mirror in place, content with himself and all the world around him. Because he knew the mirror’s magic called forth only the truth and his vanity was gratified.

Behind the door, still spying through the slit it left by being ajar, the poor queen’s heart sank. She now knew for certain that all the value she possessed for the king lay in her beauty.

This placed a fear in her heart that led her to become almost as vain of her appearance as the king. Only she did not delight fussing and fretting over her figure, her hair and her complexion. She lived a life of holding her breath every time her husband summoned her, and she would only breathe in relief the moment he nodded his approval of her looks.

Never had the queen been more afraid than when she found out she was pregnant. What would the king say now? But her husband surprised her. He did not care that she no longer fit in her most beautiful gowns, or that she sometimes looked so ill she would not even dare to leave her room, all he talked about was how beautiful their child would be. He talked about it every day:

“You will be restored to good health and good looks and I shall take you both on a grand tour around the country. I shall have the most handsome royal family that ever was seen.”

So the poor queen fretfully watched the months drag by, until one morning, when she felt that the birth was close at hand, she found that it had snowed during the night. The whole world was covered with soft, soothing white, and the queen opened the window to breathe some of this freshness into herself.

These past weeks all she had been willing to eat was fresh fruit and the queen was just cutting into an apple when a chill wind tugged on her hair and she let the knife slip and accidentally sliced into her thumb.

With a cry of pain the queen dropped the apple and it fell into the soft snow on the ebony window casement, with three drops of blood splashing down beside it. The queen felt her eyes fill with tears, because apart from the pain of the cut there was the sting of a bad omen. There was nothing good she could predict from blood on the snow.

It was beautiful, however, the soft white snow dusted over the dark ebony, and the bright red of her blood shining on it like three rubies. So the queen closed her eyes, her tears cold in the chill wind, and wished:

“Oh please let my child be beautiful. With hair dark as ebony, skin white as snow, and lips red as blood. Surely then he will always love them.”

Having said this, she closed the window, and turned her back on it. She left the apple in the snow to rot, or for some animal to take it away, and the blood in the snow to melt away when the morning sun would rise up higher.

From that day forward the queen was no longer anxious. She was grave and quiet, and if the king had taken the trouble to visit her he would have seen how weak she had grown. He did not, however, and the first news from his wife’s waiting women that he considered important enough to pay attention to was that his child would soon be born.

When the next message came, it was to tell the king that he was now father to a son, but that he was also a widower. The queen had died giving birth to her baby and the royal doctors had not been able to help.

This made the king very angry, but he cheered up when all the servants and courtiers hastened to tell him that his son was by far the most beautiful child they had ever seen. Now to say this of a newborn may be easy, for they all do look very much alike, but it proved true as the young prince grew up. The queen had lived just long enough to name her son Snow White and it was a name that suited him, because the boy’s skin was truly as white and unblemished as freshly fallen snow. Furthermore, his hair was as dark as ebony, down to the last strand, and his lips were as red as blood.

He was _beautiful_. The most beautiful child anyone had ever seen. The king was beside himself with pride and he took his son with him everywhere, parading him around like a favourite pet, dressed up in silks and velvets. Because wherever they went, every eye would be upon the two of them, and the king got so puffed up with pride and vanity that he barely ever went to visit his magic mirror anymore.

The years passed quickly, however, and soon little Snow White was no longer quite so little. The older he got, the more beautiful he seemed to grow. He was no longer a small, dainty child, with wide eyes and babbling speeches spilling from his ruby lips. He was an intelligent boy, all quick feet and attentive glances, and the king began to grow uneasy when he looked at him. Snow White’s beauty was becoming less childlike every day and one dark night when the king could not sleep for the thoughts churning in his head, he uncovered the magic mirror and spoke:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall  
Am I still the fairest of them all?”_

And to his immeasurable horror mirror promptly replied:

_“My king, know what I speak is true,  
Snow White is now quite as fair as you.”_

The king nearly tore the curtains down from around the mirror in his fury, never had he felt so humiliated. His own son, who was barely twelve years old, was already as beautiful as him. How could he even bear the thought of it?

Seething with jealousy the king covered the mirror up again and immediately let it be known that he no longer wished to see his son. He ordered that Snow White should be kept away not only from him, but also from the people, and certainly from any important visitors to the royal court. He was to be kept busy with whatever lessons it was appropriate to occupy a prince with. Riding, shooting, swordsmanship, the king did not care. As long as Snow White was out of sight.

Snow White had no way of knowing what brought about this change of heart in his father, but since he had only ever been taught to respect him and had never had any reason to learn to love him, he did not ask any questions. In any case, his new life was much more interesting than being dragged from party to party like an exotic bird to be put on display, and his teachers were kind to him. They sent reports back to his father than the young prince was a hard worker and quickly growing quite accomplished and since the king never answered they made sure to praise Snow White themselves.

In this manner another six years went by, during which Snow White did not see his father even once, and the king tried to live his life exactly as he had done before. If anyone asked after the prince, he replied that the boy was receiving an education and of course nobody questioned that. Try as he might, though, the king could not avoid hearing his courtiers speak of the prince. And they spoke nothing but praise. Praise of his strength, his cleverness, his skilfulness, and always of his beauty. Whenever these words reached him, the king seethed quietly. He had grown disgusted with his mirror ever since that one night and he never went near it anymore.

If he could have put both his son and the mirror out of his mind for the rest of his days, he would have done it, but the fact remained that he was the king. As Snow White’s eighteenth birthday approached, commoners and courtiers alike began to talk of the son joining the father in dispatching royal duties. That was the way things were done, after all. Surely a king should have his heir with him when holding court.

These voices became so loud and so incessant, that at last the king no longer felt able to deny them without embarrassment. All reluctance and resentment he announced that at the next gathering of the royal court, his son would be present.

If Prince Snow White was made nervous by this prospect, he didn’t show it. He may have been kept away from his father, but he had been brought up for courtly duties. He changed his riding habit for the finest dress clothes, lay aside his sword, and joined his father in the throne room with the same ease and elegance as he was used to step into any other chamber.

The whole assembly held its breath when Snow White entered. The prince had been so seldom seen and to look at him was truly a breath-taking experience. Everyone looked at the prince, and everyone looked at the king. Because the king sat frozen on his throne, absolutely dumbstruck with horror.

No longer a child, but a young man, one could now truly compare the son to the father. And the king could see the comparison did not flatter him. Snow White was so beautiful, so graceful and elegant, with such flawless features, that it was almost impossible to look from him to the King and not find a blemish. Moreover, Snow White moved through the admiring crowd not as if he did not realise his own beauty, but as if he did not care whether it was seen or not, and this self-assured ease gave him an attractiveness that the King had never possessed in his life.

For as long as the gathering lasted the king seethed with fury born from jealousy and insecurity. While all the members of the court and all the royal guests found out that there was more to Snow White than his beauty and that he was a most eloquent and well-informed young man, the king sat in silence and stewed in his envy.

As soon as the function was over he rushed to his chambers and straight to the magic mirror. There, once again, with his eyes wide and frantic, he demanded:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall  
Who is the fairest of them all?”_

But the mirror did not answer what it had done before. Once again its answer had changed with the times and it spoke:

_“You, my King, are fair, it’s true,  
But Prince Snow White,  
Fine as the stars shine bright,  
Is a hundred times fairer than you.”_

This the king could not bear. Even if he had already known it in his own heart, seen it with his own eyes, he could not bear to hear it spoken. He erupted into such a vile fury that none of his servants dared to approach him even to ask what was the matter. And when he had finally calmed down enough to yell for one of his attendants she came on trembling feet.

“Arrange a hunting party for tomorrow,” the king ordered, his usually fair face twisted into a malicious grimace. “For all my best hunters.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the servant curtsied.

“I will not be attending,” the king said. “But make sure my son is.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the servant curtsied again, thinking that this was the end of the matter. But then with a terrible smile that should not be called a smile at all, the king said:

“Instruct my hunters that when the hunt has led them deep into the woods, they are to shoot the prince and leave him lost in the woods.”

“Oh your Majesty!” the poor woman cried, but the king did not even hear her.

“I never wish to look upon his loathsome face again,” he spoke. “But they must cut his young heart out of his chest and bring it to me as proof that they have done as I bid them. If they don’t, I shall have them be put to death the same evening.”

And with that he sent the horrified servant away and spent the entire evening gazing in his many mirrors, angrily gratified that they at least did not speak.

Meanwhile, in his own quarters, Snow White was staring into his own looking glass. His thoughts were not fixed on his own reflection, however, they were much less pleasantly employed. He was not a naïve youth and he had long understood that his father was not a good man. The king’s hatred towards him had been clearly visible, no matter what his royal attendants tried to tell him.

So when he was informed the very next day that his father wished him to participate in a hunt, while the king had never shown any interest in his activities before, Snow White was certain this did not bode well. None of his usual companions participated and when he led his horse to the front of the hunt, he felt that every eye was upon him for all the wrong reasons.

The hunters were grave and silent, sick at heart from the task before them, but they looked upon the prince as they would at a prey all the same. In his fine riding habit and astride a beautiful young stallion he truly looked more like a wild thing of beauty than one of the hunters himself.

Snow White may have had a heavy heart, but did this not weigh down the quickness of his mind. As they rode towards the forest, he saw the sideways glances and the bows and arrows at the ready. Clearly, his father wished to be rid of him. The palace had not been a kind home to him for a long time, but if he had to leave it, the prince would much rather do so on his own terms.

Barely had they reached the first part of the forest or Snow White, riding all the way at the front, turned in his saddle and flashed the hunters a single red-lipped smile, calling out:

“If we are to have a hunt, gentleman, then hunt!”

And instantly he spurred on his steed, galloping into the forest as swift as the western winds.

None of the king’s hunters had ever seen anything like it. Under Snow White’s directions his horse darted and leapt as skilfully as any wild deer. Their arrows flew past him left and right, falling short or overshooting by far, and neither rider nor horse were harmed. The hunters gave chase, but Snow White was a better horseman than any of them. He did not look back, he sped ahead, faster and faster, choosing the most challenging path between the trees, until he heard the pounding hooves of the party fall away. On and on he went, further and further away from the royal grounds, until he was sure he had lost them.

Only then did Snow White slow his horse, patting the animal’s neck in acknowledgment of its hard work.

Far back and at a complete loss as to the direction that Snow White disappeared in, the troop of hunters had to acknowledge that they would never catch him. The truth was that all of them were relieved, for none of them had wanted to murder the prince. But they were equally afraid for their own lives and truly terrified of the king, so together they decided to shoot a young buck and cut out his heart to give to the king instead.

The king was wild with delight and while the hunters all hastily excused themselves, the king fed the heart to his hounds, and then at once called a royal assembly, pretending to be deeply stricken with grief over the loss of his son. Who was said to have been lost during the hunt and had surely been devoured by wild animals.

Deep in the dark woods, meanwhile, Snow White was wandering aimlessly, searching for a place to stop for the night. The sun would be setting soon, his horse sorely needed water, and he was growing very hungry himself.

There was nowhere suitable to stop, however. Not a shack or a hut to be seen anywhere in the woods, not even a cave to find shelter in. The prince had almost resolved to give up and just try and create a shelter among the trees, when he spotted something in the rapidly darkening dusk. Something that looked like it had been made by human hands.

When he approached it, it turned out to be a house. A house that seemed to squat down low on the ground, its sloping roof so overgrown with moss and grass that Snow White was sure he would not have seen it had he not been going so slowly and looking so carefully. It looked almost derelict, so old and gnarly the log walls seemed to him, but he approached it all the same.

Everything was quiet, but coming closer Snow White discovered a trough with a pump and another building, also built of logs carefully covered with sods of grass, that had to be a stable. So the first thing Snow White did was to pump up enough fresh, clear water to water his horse, unfastening the saddle to let it rest. He did not dare to put it in the stables, however, so he led it a little way away from the house and tied it off there, hidden in the deepening shadows as the sun set.

Carefully he then snuck back to the strange house and though he found the door locked, the clever prince was crafty enough to pick the lock and let himself in. Inside, once he had lit a candle to see by, the house was far tidier and more lived in than its outside appearance would suggest. Clearly the inhabitants had not been away very long, and would likely come back.

This being the case Snow White made his way through the house quickly and quietly, seeing if there was anything he could make use of. In one cupboard he found some bread to eat, in another a bottle of wine. He did not take more than a few mouthfuls of either, because he could not know how much whoever lived here had for themselves. The furnishings of the house were not poor though, rough as most of them were. In his search Snow White found a whetstone and though his sword needed no tending, he gladly took the opportunity to sharpen his dagger and his knife. That was the fighter in him. Next he found a brush, lying by an old, stained mirror, so he stopped awhile to brush his coat. That was the prince in him.

There was very little else in the house that could command his attention at that time, but in a room at the very back, Snow White found seven beds. Some of them with a bedframe built of wood, others barely more than a bunk with the bedding spread over it. No sooner did he lay eyes on pillows and blankets or the tiredness pressing down on his shoulders got quite ten times as heavy. But the prince did not dare to lay down to sleep in a place where he could not be sure if his safety.

A good thing too, because no sooner had he turned around to leave, or he heard horses approaching outside. There was no time for him to flee the house unseen, before he knew it there were voices and footsteps right by the front door. So Snow White stepped back into the darkest corner of the room he had first entered, and waited, still and silent as a shadow.

Outside the clamour of voices continued, until one suddenly raised above the noise and exclaimed in tones of rough suspicion:

“Who has been watering his horse?”

An abrupt silence fell, followed very quickly by another voice hissing right outside the door:

“Who has been picking our locks?”

The door swung open and by the wild light of a swinging lantern Snow White saw seven people entering the house, all of them alert and with weapons drawn. With practised efficiency they searched the room and almost immediately a tall man exclaimed, picking up the whetstone:

“Who has been sharpening his blades?”

A more feminine voice made a sharp sound and there was a clink of glass.

“Who has been drinking our wine?”

The next of them reached the mirror and snarled:

“Who has been brushing his coat?”

The youngest and slightest of them lingered at the cupboard and added:

“Who has been eating our bread?”

All this while a short, broad-shouldered man had been circling the room quietly and Snow White saw the glint of a knife before he heard him speak:

“Who has been hiding in the dark?”

The prince had no time to step forward before the blade was at his throat, so he didn’t, but his dagger was already in his hand. He understood that these people were robbers and he could certainly not fight all seven of them, but that did not mean he was prepared to surrender.

“Bring the light!” the leader of the seven ordered and the lantern was brought forth.

As soon as the light hit Snow White’s face, his lifted high under the glint of the blade, a gasp filled the crowded room. None of them had ever seen anyone quite that beautiful. The dancing lamplight also revealed the glinting of another blade, however. In Snow White’s hand, and pressed to the side of their leader.

“You have a quick hand,” the leader remarked, neither drawing away nor lowering his knife. “But who are you, coming all through the woods to burgle a couple of highwaymen?”

“If I told you the truth, you would not believe it,” Snow White answered, but the robbers demanded to know, so finally he said: “I am Prince Snow White, or I was the prince, before my father decided to order my death.”

The robbers burst forth in a roar of argument, but their leader once more studied Snow White’s face and then gave a thoughtful nod. “You do look like him,” he decided, and he finally lowered his knife.

Snow White did the same, his heart allowing him a single beat of fear now the worst of the moment was over.

“He looks like a prince, but he doesn’t act like it,” one of the robbers remarked.

“And we shall like him the better for it,” the leader said gruffly. “Go on then, fair Snow White, tell us how you ended up here.”

So the prince sat down and told them the whole story. The robbers did not listen in silence, there were a great many interruptions, but they did listen and they did believe him. No matter who and what they were, they all had a hatred for the king and they bore the prince no ill will. By the time he had finished his story, Snow White felt secure that they would not harm him.

When they suggested they would show him the way out of the forest and across the border to the neighbouring kingdom, however, he spoke up:

“And what I am to do there? As a prince my life is forfeit. I would much rather stay here. If only to repay you.”

The leader laughed softly. “Repay us? Work with us you mean?” He looked around at his company. “Would we take on a prince turned highwayman?”

“He is a fine rider,” the first robber remarked.

“With skilful fingers,” the second said.

“Quick with a blade,” the third agreed.

“We have enough to house an eighth,” the fourth said.

“He certainly has enough knowledge of riches worth stealing,” the fifth laughed.

“And I like the way he talks,” the youngest added.

“We shall take you along tomorrow night then,” their leader decided. “And see if you change your mind.”

But Snow White merely grinned, because he knew he would not.

\---

And so, between the cruelty of a king and the mercy of thieves, the kingdom lost a prince and gained a highwayman.

At first the people were only aware of the former, because they missed their prince. The King – who fancied he looked especially fine in black – wore the most luxurious mourning clothes ever fashioned and lamented to all that would hear how his poor son had been wounded and lost during a hunt. There _were_ whispers that this was very incredible, because the Prince was such a good hunter and such a strong, healthy young man. But it does not do to contradict a king, and soon the tongues were wagging with another sort of gossip. Because one more thief stalking the country roads might not be worth talking of, but one needs only a couple of young ladies to come home with their jewels stolen and their heads full of a dashing masked highwayman with ruby lips for people to take notice.

Soon there were muttered whispers left and right about the band of robbers and the beautiful young thief they surrounded. And the reports were most confusing. Because while some had their belongings taken with grave displays of violence, others found themselves treated with smiling charm. And more than one nobleman found himself robbed of riches that were too well hidden to ever have been discovered before.

The situation grew so distressing that any foreign noble attempting to cross the country found themselves pressed most strongly to hire an escort to protect them.

One prince from a neighbouring country decided not to heed such warnings. He was travelling on horseback, with only two of his own attendants, and was quite convinced that armed guards would attract more attention rather than less.

“No one would know me for a prince, travelling as I am now,” he said. “Especially not in this kingdom, where the king’s tailors seem to possess nothing but gold string for sewing thread and even the lowest nobles are expected to be decked with jewels.”

So he set off to cross the country with no other protection but the sword on his belt and his trusted servants by his side. He was right in his assumptions too. Whatever ruffian or thief saw him passing by, none of them thought that he was likely to be worth the trouble of robbing.

Thus he travelled unimpeded, until he happened to pass by the dark woods that Snow White now called home.

The young man was surveying the road with two of his comrades and immediately took notice of the riders appearing in the distance.

“There’s a mark for us!” he said, eyes lighting up.

“What makes you say so?” his fellow robbers demanded. “Since when do we ambush merchants or lone travellers? Three men on horseback and not a glint of gold in sight, what’s gotten into you, Snow White?”

But Snow White snorted at them and pointed out with such quick observation the way the middle rider held himself upon his horse and the cut of his clothes – no matter how sober – that he managed to convince his companions they were in fact dealing with a nobleman of uncommon degree.

In fact, as they came forth Snow White was convinced the man riding towards them could be no less than a prince. So when he stopped his horse in the road, blocking the travellers’ path, he brashly called out

“Good day, Your Highness! May I say this is quite an honour.”

Of all the things the shocked prince might have imagined when he saw the masked men block his way, to be addressed in such an accent was certainly not among them. He stared at the young highwayman, momentarily too surprised to speak, but as his servants nervously stirred on their horses the Prince’s courage rose. His hand had barely touched the hilt of his sword, however, or he found the highwayman’s horse nose to nose with his own and the point of his rapier at his throat.

“Come now, your Highness,” the robber tutted and as he tipped his head back the Prince suddenly met a pair of brilliant grey eyes behind the black cloth of the mask. “Fighting won’t be worth it.”

Now this Prince had never met a man capable of beating him to the draw of a weapon and he had certainly never been spoken to like this, but he was no fool. It was three against three, but if this young man’s companions had even half his skill the Prince knew he stood no chance. So he slowly raised his hands and did not move another muscle until the rapier was withdrawn.

As he sheathed his weapon once more, the Prince caught just a glimpse of a smirk around the young man’s lips and never had he seen _such_ a curl around such lips.

“I see you travel light,” the highwayman told him, with something that almost sounded like familiarity. “So I shall not make you hand over the fine clothes you must have hidden. I only want the presents you have brought for the King. He has no need of them.”

With every word the young highwayman spoke, the Prince was more overcome. In the gloaming he was barely more than a shadow, but the way he moved, and spoke, and _looked_ , was putting a spell on the Prince like he had never experienced before.

He bade his servants to hand over all the riches they had hidden away as a necessary tribute to the King and between the decided order of their master and the watchful eyes of the robbers, they didn’t dare to refuse.

When all the finery had disappeared in the highwaymen’s saddlebags, the youngest of them rode his horse around the Prince’s one more time, and made him a courteous half-bow from where he sat gracefully in his saddle.

“It’s been a pleasure, your Highness.”

The Prince met his eyes once more and suddenly, bewildering even himself, he took off his left glove and slipped the signet ring he wore on that hand off his finger. The way he held it out to the young highwayman, arm outstretched, it seemed almost like a challenge.

The thief stared at him for a moment, his grey eyes blinking in surprise, but then he let out a brilliant, delighted laugh, and snatched the ring from his hand. One moment the Prince felt his warm fingers brushing his and the next the highwayman had turned his horse and spurred it into a full gallop, away into the dark.

His fellow robbers followed suit and the Prince was left behind with his heart beating a wild song in his chest and the sound of that laugh ringing in his ears like silver bells.

\---

The King meanwhile, shut up in his glittering castle, was contently preparing for the visit of the heir of one of the neighbouring kingdoms. There was almost no greater pleasure to him than such visits, because it gave him every excuse to gratify his vanity. All dressed and done up in splendour he felt so very fine that for the first time in a long time he parted the velvet curtains in front of the magic mirror and let the old familiar words tumble from his lips:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall  
Who is the fairest of them all?”_

For a long moment there was nothing but silence, but then the intangible voice of the mirror’s enchantment replied solemnly:

_“You, my King, are fair, it’s true,  
But Prince Snow White,  
Who stalks the roads at night,  
Is a thousand times fairer than you.”_

The fury that took hold of the King upon hearing those words defied all description. At last he understood that his hunters had lied to him. Not only was Snow White still alive, he was only growing more beautiful. Oh it made the king sick to his rotten heart to even _think_ of it!

He was still in all states of fury when his royal visitor arrived and if his courtiers had thought that attention from a charming foreign prince would mollify the king, they were sorely mistaken. The Prince brought no gifts for the King and no sooner had he uttered his apology or he followed it with an explanation that made the King’s face boil red.

“And this highwayman,” he spat. “This highwayman that rode so elegantly. Were his lips as red as blood?”

“I could not tell you their colour,” the Prince replied in surprise. Had he been provided with paper he might have sketched the exact curve of their smirk, captured the very energy of them as they spoke, but he was silent on that.

“Tell me then,” the King hissed. “This highwayman that spoke so well, was his hair dark like ebony?”

“It was dark to be sure,” the Prince replied, wariness growing in his soul with every word the King spoke. “But so was the night.”

“Then answer me this,” the King demanded. “This highwayman that laughed so brilliantly. Was his skin white as snow?”

That the highwayman’s skin had been fair was something the Prince _could_ say with certainty, but even this he related to the King with the utmost reluctance. He saw something repulsive in the man that rapidly made him draw back.

Any other time the King would have been incensed by such behaviour, but at present he had no rage to spare for insolent foreign princes. He was certain that this highwayman must be Snow White. _Fair Snow White who stalked the roads at night_ ….

The King immediately ordered that this shameless outlaw and his comrades had to be captured. But even the head of the royal guard, who was intimately acquainted with the King’s cruel punishments, could do nothing but reply:

“If we were able to apprehend him, or even one of them, we would have done so at once. You may take my head, Your Majesty, but these thieves will not be apprehended through any mortal means.”

This gave the King pause. Because even _if_ the nameless thief he believed to be his son could be captured, It would be very bad to have him brought back to the palace. The King suddenly felt all the danger he was in with his son still alive to speak of his guilt. No. This highwayman must not be caught, he had to die. Poor and nameless.

But the king knew his son well enough – for all his effort to know him as little as possible – that he would not be vanquished easily.

Everyone had always said that his son was clever and skilful and now he had surely grown sly and suspicious. No, if there was to be an end to him, it had to be brought about through trickery.

At last, after many dark nights filled with dark thoughts, the King devised a plan. Knowing that Snow White would never trust anyone sent to him or anything given to him, he ordered a gorgeous house to be built near one of the roads the band of robbers reportedly frequented. It looked almost like a little cottage, but with walls built of the whitest stone and with silk curtains hanging behind the shining glass windows.

When it was done, it looked like a uncanny dream with gilded edges. With all around it silver gates enclosing a gorgeous little orchard with beautiful apples trees, the leaves of which seemed to glitter in the sun, outdone only by the ruby-red apples hanging from their branches.

It wasn’t long before reports reached the leader of the robbers about the building going on and he decided to take Snow White along to see what it was all about. When they arrived at sunset, the last light glinted brilliantly off all the gold and silver and polished stone and the two men could scarcely believe their eyes.

“No one in their right mind would have such a place built!” the old robber exclaimed, but Snow White laughed and said he knew at least a dozen that would do so without hesitation.

“A pleasure ground built by the idle rich,” he muttered as they rode past the gleaming silver fence.

“Well,” the leader said grimly. “We shall come back with the others then, on a full moon night, and clear the place out.”

Snow White agreed with him wholeheartedly. This whole place reminded him of his father. All vain pretence and empty finery. It would be a pleasure to destroy it. He was just about to turn his horse when a last ray of the sun glinted of a ruby apple hanging from a branch that stretched itself out nearly outside the confines of the gate.

Gleaming and shining behind the silver bars it was everything opulent and jealously guarded by those that possessed too much already and in an impulse Snow White rose up in his stirrups, reached out a gloved hand and snatched the apple off the tree.

His companion laughed at his juvenile defiance and Snow White laughed back at him with carefree levity. He urged his horse forward to follow his leader and as he expertly directed the reins with one hand, the other lifted the stolen apple to his mouth.

The moment Snow White’s teeth sunk into the red fruit and the juice of it ran down his throat a terrible shudder seized his body. Because the apple trees that grew in that orchard, no matter how beautiful, bore nothing but toxic fruit. Their roots had been poisoned by the King himself with a terrible magic that showed glittering beauty but hid nothing but the vilest decay.

It was a terrible venom and even a single taste had Snow White slumping forward lifelessly in his saddle, spitting the bite of apple from his mouth. The leader of the robbers called out to him in fright, but got no response. He pulled the young man off his horse and did everything he could think of to rouse him, but nothing worked.

Finally the distraught man lifted Snow White onto his own horse and rode back with him to their hideout. There his six comrades tried everything in their power to bring their young friend back to consciousness again, but all to no avail. There was still a blush on his pale cheeks, still life in his fair face, but he was silent and unmoving, as if caught up by an unexplainable death.

\---

Unbeknownst to the seven friends a pair of spying guards had by that time carried a report back to the king that two figures had been seen riding around the beautiful royal cottage, but that the younger had been carried off by the elder after taking a bite of one of the apples.

In wild triumph and full of dark, gleeful expectation the King hurried to the magic mirror and asked in a hungry voice:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
Who is the fairest of them all?”_

And after a silence that seemed much longer than any other time the King had posed this very question the mirror answered solemnly:

_“My king, know what I speak is true,  
The fairest of them all, is you.”_

The King’s loveless heart beat wildly with a cruel joy, but he was not yet easy. Feverishly he paced around the room, his steps pounding on the flagstones. With an abrupt flounce of his shoulders he turned back to the mirror and asked with a sharp hiss in his throat:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
I shall suffer no further mistake.  
Is any force left on this earth,  
That might still make Snow White wake?_

No matter how he stared, the mirror’s glass remained empty and from this emptiness the following doleful words rang out:

_“None shall find to this the cure,  
Lest looked upon by true love’s eye.  
Such poison none can long endure,  
Ere spring has come, the prince will die.”_

Now, finally, the King was satisfied. Because the glorious spring would be bursting forth soon enough, and who could possibly love a nameless outlaw enough to try and save his life?

With his jealousy at last quieted and his vanity once more gratified, the King slept soundly that night in the knowledge that his only rival had been vanquished.

\---

The band of robbers meanwhile did not sleep a wink. They grieved all night and when morning came they still did not know what to do for all their sorrow. Snow White looked so alive still, so untouched by the reality of death, that even though they began to understand he would never wake, they could not bear the thought of burying him.

“We should build him a coffin out of crystal,” one of them wept. “Let him be idle and beautiful for the rest of time.”

But their leader sat up in a rage at those words. “You will not disrespect him in such a way!” he cried. “To put him on display like a bauble.” His anger made way for sorrow again and he shook his head. “We shall lay him to rest in a place where no one will find him, with his weapons placed beside him like the tools of his trade that they were.”

So the leader bound Snow White’s mask back in place and that is how they laid their young friend out in a cave nearby their hideout. In place of flowers they piled stones in front of the entrance, blocking even the sly wind from entering. Nothing would ever have betrayed who lay there, if it had not been for the youngest of them, who had been nearly of an age with Snow White and had not yet had the time to let practicality outgrow his feelings. This young man took up a hammer and chisel that he had learned to use in the life he left behind and chiselled into the largest stone the words:

“Here lies Snow White.”

Because the life of all outlaws is forever uncertain and he could not bear the thought of his friend’s name being forgotten even when all seven of them would be gone.

\---

It was not just the seven of them, however, who carried Snow White in their hearts and minds. The foreign Prince, who had left the King’s court with a heavy heart, had not been able to put the young highwayman out of his mind. He could not close his eyes without seeing the smiling curl of those lips. In his sleep he heard his brilliant laugh, when he woke he repeated his charming words. Oh, he was truly in a dreadful state.

At last the Prince was overcome with such a longing to meet the clever thief once more, that he left his servants and ventured on alone, returning to the spot where their paths had crossed. There he searched and searched until eventually, deep in the dark woods, he happened upon the robbers’ hideout.

Wise enough to stay out of sight, the Prince observed them with eager eyes. But though he counted no less than seven people, he recognised only two of them and the young highwayman was not among them. Hesitant to reveal himself, but bitterly disappointed by the young man’s absence, the Prince waited. He watched the robbers go about their business and after a while he realised that every now and again, either one by one or in pairs of two, some of them disappeared into the forest.

So when night fell and the robbers rode off to ply their trade, the Prince slyly followed the path deeper into the forest that he had seen the robbers take. Believing himself to be alone, he finally dared to light a lantern and that is how he found the hidden cave. Stones stacked upon stones met his eye and for a moment the Prince stood in silent uncertainty. But then, in the flicker of firelight, he saw the inscription on the bottom stone and read: “Here lies Snow White.”

In an instant the Prince remembered the raging words of the King, demanding to know if the young highwayman’s skin had been white as snow. Fearfully, with a feverish urgency, the Prince began to move away the stones blocking his way. He dared not even think of what he might find, but it was beyond his power to stop himself. All night he toiled and the harder he worked, the more careless he became.

It was almost sunrise when the leader of the band of robbers came riding up to the cave, with the youngest of them in tow. No sooner did they see the Prince, or the youngest gave a furious shout and instantly took up his crossbow.

The Prince ignored him, however, and the leader held out a quietening hand. He did not know who this young man was, but he had heard enough talk of a handsome foreign prince who willingly parted with his signet ring to have his suspicions.

Trembling, the Prince at last moved the stone that allowed him to look into the cave, just as the morning light shone through the trees. There, laid out on the grey stone, the Prince saw what must be the body of the bright young highwayman. He took but one look at the lifeless figure and then sank to his knees, bowing his head with such despair that the robbers bowed their heads also. The Prince did not cry, but there was such broken disbelief on his face that the two men recognised the broken heart in him and took pity on the young intruder.

The leader dismounted his horse and helped the Prince back onto his feet. “Do you still want to see him?” he asked gravely.

“Yes,” the sorrowful Prince replied. “Yes. All I wanted was to see him again. If it must be like this then it must be.”

So the two robbers helped the Prince to clear a path into the cave and stood solemnly by while he kneeled beside their friend.

To his infinite sorrow the Prince saw that not only was this indeed the young man that he had met and lost his heart to that day on the road, but that he looked exactly as he had done then. There seemed to be no death here and yet there was no life. So here he sat, kneeling beside the first person he had loved with such immediate conviction, and only just having learned his name, without ever having the opportunity to have him answer to it.

But as the Prince cast down his eyes and his gaze fell upon Snow White’s carefully placed hands, his regret turned into something even more acute. Because his white hands were clasped over his neatly folded leather gloves and on the ring finger of his left hand shone the Prince’s own ring.

Wild with grief the Prince reached out, but he did not even dare to displace his mask. Sorrowfully he leaned forward, until his face was level with Snow White’s, and pleaded:

“I came all this way, just for the privilege of looking at you again. This is a cruel way to fulfil my wish. I had much rather that you had met me with your rapier at my throat and threatened me with death for following you to your home.”

These were words spoken with painful laughter hidden in bitter tears and the two men standing outside did their best not to hear them, but they were bound to hear the Prince’s cry of surprise. Because as he talked, two large tears fell from the Prince’s eyes, splashing onto Snow White’s cheeks, as if he had begun to cry himself. And before the embarrassed Prince could even reach out to wipe them away, the young man’s lashes suddenly lifted. For a moment the grey eyes were empty, but then, in the moment of a heartbeat, the light flooded back into them and Snow White woke.

“You have a very peculiar way of waking a person,” Snow White replied to the Prince’s startled cry, but that was all he managed to say before his two friends came storming inside.

Where the Prince’s joy was shocked and quiet, theirs was loud and incredulous. The young robber embraced him with a burst of affectionate threats and Snow White struggled to put on his gloves again, carefully avoiding to meet the Prince’s eyes. With his face newly washed with relief he was even handsomer than Snow White remembered, but he would not allow himself to dwell on that.

Instead he demanded to know where he was and what had happened. The explanation did not please him one bit, however. He was furious that someone had managed to trick him and his anger burned like ice on warm skin.

Not even the burst of riotous joy from his other companions could cheer him. While they rejoiced, he seethed and finally he burst out that he would not rest until he had found out who it was that had set such a trap, whether it had been meant for him or not.

All around him were quiet for a moment, but then Prince spoke up. With bitter self-reproach he related all that had happened during his visit to the King, after their fateful meeting. There was no doubt in his mind that this orchard with poisoned apples must have been built on royal orders and the company seemed to agree with him, for with every word he spoke they grew more grim.

As soon as the Prince stopped speaking, Snow White rose from his seat at the table. “Then my father knows I am alive,” he declared. “And he will not rest until he sees me dead.”

No matter how shocked the Prince might have been by this revelation, it was not equal to what he felt when he heard Snow White decide that he could not let the King’s attempt on his life go unpunished.

“If casting me out was not enough for him, we shall settle this in person,” Snow White vowed and his comrades gave him no opposition.

The Prince was the only one that dared to beg him to flee, but neither the love in the Prince’s eyes, nor the gold encircling his own finger could dissuade Snow White now. The seven highwaymen pitied the Prince, as they had never seen anyone so sick with love, but Snow White was grim.

“I realise now that I will not have any life of my own while he still rules,” he said. “I am the heir to the country, I will take my rightful place.”

“Then let me go with you,” the Prince begged.

“We’re all going with him,” the leader of the highwaymen spoke up and Snow White found that every last one of them was willing to match him in foolhardy stubbornness.

No matter what he said, neither Prince nor robbers would yield. So once the passing of the night had brought them a full moon to light their way, a party of nine set off for the royal castle. Seven rode as robbers and two lead the way as men of royal blood.

The sun was only just taking the pale moon’s place but their arrival did not go unnoticed. Snow White was prepared to meet the castle guard, however, and before his men could square up to fight, he addressed the captain and took off his mask.

The Prince, up to that moment perhaps still slightly unbelieving, watched in awe how guard after guard shrank back and lay down their weapon. They stared at their crown prince with wide, fearful eyes and none of them were fool enough to prevent him from entering the place of his birth. Snow White dismounted as soon as he had reached the courtyard and the leader of the robbers called out to the hesitant Prince:

“Go with him and we will secure your way out!”

So the Prince followed, seeing servants and courtiers alike change colour and scramble to bow as Snow White walked the halls of his memory like a vengeful spirit. But no spirit had ever walked in such a way.

They had barely gone up the first staircase or the Prince had already lost sight of him. Between the two of them only Snow White knew where he was going and he was fast. As nimble and quick as he had been as a boy, playing in these corridors in blissful ignorance.

Except now he was striding down hallways he never used to go as a child. Up staircases he had always been kept away from. All the way to the King’s chambers.

-

Had the King not been standing at his mirror, he might have heard, but all his attention was on his own self as he repeated the same words he had spoken countless times before:

_“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,  
Who is the fairest of them all?”_

And once again the mirror began:

_“You, my King, are fair, it’s true,”_

But Snow White would not let it finish. He stepped through the doorway, sword unsheathed, and his voice drowned out the mirror’s tones.

_“But Prince Snow White,_  
The kingdom’s heir by right,  
Is easily worth a thousand of you.”

There was no imagining the King’s horror. He could not even speak. There was Snow White, as beautiful as he had ever been, and now grown quite strong and quite merciless.

“Will you not greet me, Your Majesty?” he asked and the smile on his red lips as sharp as the rapier he lifted to the King’s chest.

The King gaped, backing away with staggering steps. Back and back, with the blade ever closer, until he found himself trapped against the cold, smooth surface of the mirror.

-

No one knew what had happened in the royal chamber, but when the Prince arrived, the evil King lay dead on the flagstones. One hand reaching up to the magic mirror, and one clutching at the crimson wound in his chest.

Now he too was white as snow and red as blood, but his hair was no longer dark, it had turned quite white with fear.

The Prince did not look at him, however, all he saw was Snow White, whose face now displayed all the emotion that it had seemed to lack when he first awoke.

The two young men looked at one another and after a frantic moment of silence the Prince breathed: “I was told your name is Snow White.”

Snow White nodded and slowly a new kind of smile graced his face. “Did you truly spend all this time searching for a nameless, faceless man?”

The Prince shook his head for a moment, but then he smiled in return. “Perhaps I was merely wanting to retrieve my ring,” he said, reaching out for his gloved hand.

Snow White laughed and it was no laugh for a prince, it was still the laugh of a highwayman. “Well, you shall not have it back again,” he declared and with that Snow White kissed his Prince.

That was how the seven robbers found them when they finally made their way up to the chamber and their leader, puffed up with silent pride, took a very particular delight in addressing his young friend as “Your Majesty”.

And Snow White, for the first time in years, did not argue with his title.

\---

No one mourned for the evil king, and not too long after the funeral and the coronation there was a wedding, granting the country two young kings to make up for the loss of one.

Under Snow White’s rule the kingdom flourished like never before. If masked men ever did still roam the roads at night, it was not because poverty had driven them there. And there was always the chance of the royal couple crossing their path, for they had quite the taste for midnight excursions.

The mirror never spoke again, but Snow White never felt any urge to ask it anything. Because although he was certainly not free of vanity, he only needed to look into his husband’s eyes to have it gratified, and there he always found much more than admiration for his beauty alone.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to my sister for being my tireless beta and to Amanda for helping out <3
> 
> If you're interested in some fairy tales that are completely my own (and therefore full of pansexual princesses, found families, sapphic dragons, kind stepmothers and asexual heroes) you can check those out on [my website](https://patchworkfairytales.wordpress.com/) or listen to them as a podcast on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/show/2bsgejSQfiYkCW4wmyTz3I), [iTunes](https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/patchwork-fairy-tales/id1479428023?ign-mpt=uo%3D4), [Stitcher](https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/patchwork-fairy-tales), [Buzzsprout ](http://patchworkfairytales.buzzsprout.com/)and most other podcatchers.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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